


alijana

by AllegoriesInMediasRes



Series: Ramayana fics [4]
Category: Ramayana - Valmiki
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Victim Blaming, Double Drabble, Gen, Oneshot, Women helping Women
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 16:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15490314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllegoriesInMediasRes/pseuds/AllegoriesInMediasRes
Summary: alijana = Sanskrit for “a lady’s female friends”





	alijana

Salt stings Sita’s eyes and nose as the chariot lands in Lanka, Ravana’s grip strong like a vise upon her wrist. She is at once soaked in sweat from fear and chilled from the mad race through the sky. When she instinctively tugs her pallu down over her face, some of Jatayu’s feathers brush off, and it is this that sends her careening from the carriage.

“Easy does it,” a woman’s voice murmurs in her ear, as someone steadies her, and Sita chances a glance up to see the owner, only to recoil. Those tattoos-- that hair-- that body--

But this rakshasa is much older than Surpanakha, and there is no menace or greed in her countenance. Only a weariness, perhaps, about the eyes, and a grim set to her mouth.

“Really, Sarama _bhabi,_ you’re too much!” Ravana’s voice booms, and the demoness steps back. “Where is your daughter? I have a new charge for her.”

“I shall fetch Trijata,” the rakshasa says, so smoothly and curtly that Sita thinks she imagined the gesture. But as the rakshasa-- _Sarama_ \-- turns to leave, she sends a subtle nod over her shoulder. Even as Sita’s heart still pounds, she returns the nod.

* * *

Everyone in the kingdom of Ayodhya and in the three worlds seems to have an opinion as to Sita Devi’s chastity, from the washermen and the kshatriyas and the rishis, to the ministers and princes and kings and queens, all the way up to the gods themselves as well.

Rambha, Queen of the Apsaras, steps forward, deadly in both beauty and in anger. “Did I suffer to be violated, only to witness this? Did I pronounce a terrible curse, only for everyone to doubt its power? If there were the slightest slight upon Rani Sita’s virtue, his head would have split into seven pieces before it could happen! Why is my word, the word of a goddess, not enough?”

“Because now we know,” one man’s voice from the throng rises out silkily, “that if anything passed between the Lady Sita and the King of Lanka, her heart was indeed fully in it.”

Murmurs of assent break out at this: some, not all, but more than none. Lakshman’s bow cracks in his hand, and Rama fixes his gaze upon a point somewhere above the proceedings, his eyes glazed and his jaw rigid. Rambha fumes, and steps back, and Sita says nothing.


End file.
